After a shut-in season confined to his flat, Rick returned to the grand Palais de Tokyo for a Hollywood saga that reached biblical proportions
The last couple of seasons have seen Rick Owens invite a small number of guests into his home to stage intimate, kind-of-exclusive shows. The move was, in part, out of respect for the conflict going on around the world, and the horrors unfolding in Gaza, Congo, and beyond. To Rick, it didn’t seem right to put on a massive fashion extravaganza when so many people are suffering.
For SS25, however, he was thinking differently, as he returned to his second home at the Palais de Tokyo to stage a Hollywood epic of unfathomable proportions. The designer was thinking back to when he abandoned his conservative town and headed for the bright lights of Los Angeles in search of his kindred freaks and weirdos – as documented by iconic directors like Kenneth Anger. At its heart, it was a show about unity. Here’s everything you need to know.
From flaming balls swinging through the air and blazing funeral pyres, to exploding smoke grenades that filled the air with plumes of coloured smoke and petal-like confetti that rained down on the models, Rick’s shows are never without drama. This time, however, the designer was thinking differently, stripping things back with no set to speak of. Instead of a throwaway rig-up, he decided that the cast itself would be interesting enough to blow the typically hard-to-impress, jaded fashion audience away this. Reader: he succeeded.
As ever, the show was opened by Rick’s right-hand man and certified muse, Tyrone Dylan. The designer stomped out in an all-white look completed with a billowing, diaphanous cape that fluttered out behind him as he walked, ahead of a behemoth cast of models, who came out in big groups and made their way around the Palais de Tokyo’s glassy pond.
Also in all-white looks, the mega cast – made up of 200 street-cast students from across Paris, as well as a handful of Rick’s friends and community members – debuted bandage-like tops and shorts matched with durags, boxy biker leathers, long, ecclesiastical column gowns, and wide-shouldered coats bearing Rick’s signature curved horns.
Rick Owens SS25Photography Emma Elizabeth Davidson
Backstage, the designer revealed his last two shows, which took place at his house, left him feeling guilty. “I felt a little guilty that I excluded so many people, but specifically the fashion students that are usually outside the gate when you do the shows outside,” he explained. “So I thought ‘how can I respond to that?’ Well, we’ll just invite everyone into the show. All of the fashion students, anybody who wants to be in the show, can be in the show.”
Rick then went on to explain that the vast space prompted him to think about casting in a different way. “One of the things about using this space is the scale of it,” the designer said. “It’s just a challenge – a wonderful challenge – to think how we can use it with people, instead of sets that get thrown away. Instead of disposable things, presenting a mass of people, an army of love.”
In a note sent out to editors just after the show, Rick explained that his Hollywood collection wasn’t inspired by our modern day stars and starlets, but the Pre-code black and white Biblical epics that mix “art deco, lurid sin and redeeming morality.” The Pre-code era spanned just a short time in Hollywood, the halcyon days of 1931 to 1934, before the Hays code was properly enforced and changed what could be shown on screen. The films that Rick references in his collection – like 1933’s homo-erotically charged Lot in Sodom, and 1932’s controversial The Sign of The Cross – were both made in this era, and subject to strict censure afterwards.
On the Palais de Tokyo catwalk, these references were translated to fit an army of Rick acolytes. Like Spartans going into battle, models arrived carrying huge frames with more models stacked on top, Rick’s hand-holding unity flag billowing in the wind as his new insignia. Elsewhere there were sweeping satin cloaks with golden crescent headdresses, pointed shoulders and papal-looking helmets, while other models were wrapped in shredded gauzy material, like they were just about to be entombed. The latter came courtesy of Tanya Vidic, a Slovenian fashion grad who specialises in knitwear, proving Rick is all about bringing a new generation of talent into the fold.
Rick’s runways have always invited the kind of models who wouldn’t be cast anywhere else to walk, with the designer cultivating a recognisable crew of misfits across the years. Perhaps surprisingly, this vision hasn’t really expanded to include people with larger bodies, despite his clothes being a beloved go-to among fans who don’t fit the sample size mould. This season, working with 200 models was a chance for him to cater to far more bodies than he usually does, with models of all shapes and sizes kitted out in distressed cotton canvas, silks, and signature Kiss boots. Rick explained backstage that he hates seeing token curve models on the runway, and this season was a “great exercise” when it came to expanding his offering and making his already inclusive brand even more so. The show was unified in every way: this felt like a missing puzzle piece was finally added in.
Despite his future-facing fashions, Rick’s shows are no strangers to classical music, and this season was no exception. As models sloped along the catwalk, Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 rang through the speakers, and the designer explained his decision backstage after the show. “We needed something dignified, and something aspirational,” he said. “Something elegant, but positive.”
He also revealed that the show was all about bringing people together, hence the hundreds-strong students and the stacked guestlist of editors and friends. “It was a great way to talk about unity in a time of discord and intolerance we’re moving through right now,” the designer told us hopefully, just after the show.
